Why Me?
by GeneHarlow
Summary: Alex gets a call from a near-hysterical Norma after Bob Paris sends his thugs to her house to try and get the flashdrive back. "There were men..." She murmured, her voice thick with tears, and he froze, his hand reaching for his keys as he craned to hear her quiet words. "There were men in the house. They..." Kacy's request. Day 1 of Merry Fic-Mas!


**TRIGGER WARNING: Descriptions of violence. Mentions of sexually violent threats.**

 **Ok, so this is literally the least festive thing I could possibly write for the start of "Merry Fic-Mas" but... *shrug*. When am I ever traditional? There's no sex in this - Just wanted to warn you, in case you are LITERALLY just here for smut. There WILL be smut-a-plenty during "Merry Fic-Mas" but not today.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

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"Romero." Alex answered his phone gruffly, the same way he always did, not bothering the check the caller ID.

There was a long pause, where he could only hear heavy breathing, and he frowned. He didn't even know people still made prank calls these days?

"Hello?" He muttered, his tone growing irritated as the silence stretched on. There was a quiet whimper from the other end of the phone and he finally put down his pen, flopping back into his office chair and straining to hear the person on the other end.

There was a shaky female coughing sound, more of a splutter than anything and he frowned, finally pulling the phone away from his face to check the screen.

 _Norma Bates calling._

"Norma?" He asked, pressing the phone against his ear again, listening to the ragged sound of her breathing.

"Alex?" She said finally, her voice sounding small and confused, even though she had called him.

"What's going on, Norma?" He tried to keep the rising sense of panic out of his voice, even as he stood up, his body preparing for whatever drama she'd got herself into this time.

"Er..." There was a long silence once again, and then the sound of her sniffling quietly. "I think... you might be in danger." She sounded dazed, almost detached from what she was telling him.

"Danger? Why?" He asked cautiously, knowing her penchant for being overdramatic at times.

The silence returned, and this time he recognised the sound of her crying softly.

"Norma?" He barked, louder than he intended to, worry clouding his judgement as he started edging around his desk, towards his jacket and car keys.

"What's going on?"

"There were men..." She murmured, her voice thick with tears, and he froze, his hand reaching for his keys as he craned to hear her quiet words. "There were men in the house. They..." She trailed off, quietly sobbing now.

"Okay." He puffed out a breath, trying to calm himself. He was a police officer. He couldn't let his panic cloud his senses right now. He had so many questions he longed to ask her, but he had to deal with the most obvious and the most important ones first. "Are they still in the house?"

"No." She breathed out, as he jogged past the front desk, ignoring the curious looks from his employees as he raced out of work.

"Are you hurt?"

The question hung in the air for what felt like forever, until Alex's hand stilled on the handle of the SUV door, waiting to hear her answer. He knew Bob Paris was a scumbag, but he hadn't assumed she'd been physically harmed... Until it took her forever to answer his question and his heart sank.

"Norma?" He insisted gently, and there was a sniffle from the other end of the call.

"I'll be ok." She breathed out quietly, and he shuddered, jumping into the car and pulling out of the parking lot with a renewed haste.

"I'm coming over. Stay where you are. Lock the doors-" She tried to cut him off.

"No, no. Alex-" She piped up suddenly.

"Norma. Shut up." He interrupted, his voice low and warm. "At the very least, you sound like you're in shock." Her dazed, numb tone was making him nervous, remembering the basic first aid training he'd received, trying to think how to treat her when he got there.

"I'm not in shock." She said immediately, sounding more detached than ever, and he opened his mouth to object when she spoke again. "Oh." She said suddenly. "I'm bleeding." She observed mildly and the SUV veered dangerously over to the other side of the road for a second as Alex's hands jerked in shock at her words. He righted the vehicle, increasing his speed, putting his foot down to speed towards her.

He wasn't sure what to say for a moment, his mouth flapping open and closed, his hands suddenly feeling cold and clammy as they gripped the steering wheel hard.

"I'll be there soon, ok? Just stay on the phone-" He tried to keep his voice neutral and even, while a tempest raged inside his chest, his knuckles going white as he angrily choked the steering wheel, his mouth set in a hard line as he turned onto the road where the motel lay.

"It's ok. I'm fine." She whispered numbly, before she hung up and the phone went dead. Alex angrily tossed his phone onto the passenger seat, growling in annoyance at Bob Paris and at the stubborn Norma and everyone in between, a little of his rage leeching out as he saw the architecture of the house finally come into view. He picked up the pace, zipping up the last stretch of road, and swinging the car into the parking lot dangerously fast, leaving it at a strange angle and jumping out before he'd even fully turned the engine off.

"Norma?" He called out from outside the door, knocking sharply, listening for any signs of movement from inside. There were none, the whole house laying still and quiet, and he hesitated for half a second, before tentatively trying the door handle, finding it unlocked. The door swung open easily, and he reached for his holster, holding his gun in front of him warily as he entered the house.

"Norma?" He called out again, this time registering a small shuffling sound coming from the kitchen and he sprang forward before his training could stop him. Really, he should have waited, not sprinted blindly down the hall, turning the corner and skidding to a halt as he took in the scene in front of him.

One of the chairs was lying on it's side, there was a coffee cup in shattered pieces strewn around the floor, but most harrowing of all was the sight of Norma Bates, propped up against one of the cupboards, her legs splayed out to the side, her glazed eyes staring at nothing. One hand was grasping the neck of her dress, pressing it high up against her throat, the other was laying on the floor, a kitchen knife resting loosely on her open palm.

"Jesus..." He whispered, and she dragged her eyes up to him, blinking her dazed, watery eyes at him in confusion for a moment.

"Alex? What are you doing here?" She mumbled out, as he dropped to a crouch in front of her, staying a few feet away, holding his hands out like he was approaching a wounded deer.

"You called me?" He reminded her gently, gasping as he took in her face, peering at her through the gloom of a winter's late afternoon. Her eyes were red and puffy, her face streaked with tracks of mascara; There was steady stream of crimson dripping down her chin from a split lip, and her cheekbone was swollen and red, a bruise no doubt blossoming under her pale skin. His eyes flicked down a little, to where her shaking hand was clutching at the neck of her dress, wrapping it round herself, and he shuddered a little, trying to keep his professional mask in place. He was trained for this.

"Norma?" He said quietly, but firmly, holding his hands out and inching them towards her very slowly. "I'm going to take you to the hospital, ok?"

She shook her head immediately, fresh tears springing to her eyes.

"No." She said defiantly, and his hands darted down to where the knife was still loosely held in her other hand. There was blood on the blade. Not alot - Just a streak along the serrated edge that told him she'd managed to at least slice into her attacker. Good.

He eyed it warily for a second, before inching his hand towards her, his finger tips brushing hers as he took the knife out of her hands and slid it a few feet away. He wasn't afraid of her, but she still looked dazed, her body still curled up defensively, and he wasn't sure she wouldn't accidentally lash out as he tried to help her.

In the back of his mind, he realised he was destroying evidence, his fingers probably smudging any finger prints on the kitchen knife, disturbing the crime scene, but he was also numbly aware that he wouldn't be going through any official channels to deal with this incident.

He gazed at her, unsure of what to do, watching as she stared down at her shaking hand in confusion, like she'd entirely forgotten there'd been a knife there. She shook her hand, flexing the fingers, and he knew she must be starting to realise she was in shock, probably trying to get the blood pumping back into her extremities.

She looked up at him with a flicker of recognition, her bottom lip trembling, and he felt the first hint of relief as her senses seemed to fade back in.

"I don't want to go to hospital." She said quietly, and he nodded, even though he thought that was a terrible idea.

"Ok."

There was a long pause, where she looked down at herself, her free hand pulling the floral fabric down to cover her thigh, the other tugging at the neck of her shirt dress, holding the collar together, covering as much of her skin as possible. She bit her lip, glancing around the room, suddenly looking embarrassed.

"You shouldn't have come. I'm fine." She said, in the least convincing voice he'd ever heard.

"Jesus, Norma!" He blurted out before he could stop himself, breathing out a short, mirthless laugh at how incredibly ridiculous she was being. Her mouth dropped open as her eyes flicked back up to him.

He stood up suddenly and she flinched, unconsciously flattening herself back against the cupboard, and he froze, silently kicking himself. He was trained to deal with victims of assault - He knew better than to move suddenly, but something about seeing her like this was affecting his judgement, his emotions torn between wanting to reach out and hold her, and taking off without another word and putting whoever did this in the ground. But, reasonably, he couldn't do that - Not yet, and he rubbed his hand through his hair, desperately trying to get a handle on himself.

"Where's your first aid kit?"

Her mouth opened and he could tell she was planning to protest, to try and tell him that she was fine and that there was no need, and he held up a hand to stop her before she could speak.

"Norma. The first aid kit?" He looked down at her seriously for a second. "If you're not going to let me take you to hospital, then this is your only other option." He glanced around the kitchen. "I know you have one. You can either tell me, or I start looking for it and you just know I'm gonna mess stuff up."

She half smiled weakly at him and then dropped her head in defeat, gesturing broadly towards the ceiling.

"Bathroom. Under the sink."

"Ok, sit down. I'll be back in a second." He righted the upturned chair, pulling it back from the table and nodding at it, before taking off up the stairs at a sprint, tearing through the cupboard under her sink for the large green box. He located it easily, quickly returning to the kitchen, glancing in confusion from the empty chair, to Norma who was still on the floor where he'd left her. He watched silently as she tried to push herself up, fresh tears springing to her eyes as she flopped back down immediately.

"Norma?" He asked gently, placing the box down on the table and walking over to her very slowly.

She kept her eyes cast down, sniffling quietly.

"Can you help me up?" She asked, in the smallest voice he'd ever heard come out of her mouth. She avoided his pained gaze, clearly hating to ask for his help. She was Norma Bates - She didn't need help from anyone, and here she was, weak and vulnerable, unable to get up off the kitchen floor, clearly hating that anyone was seeing her like this.

"Sure." He said, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. He shouldn't be affected like this - She was his friend, a former annoyance, someone who'd helped him and he'd helped her. He shouldn't care about seeing her like this as much as he did.

He reached for her hands, planning to grasp her wrists to tug her gently to her feet, faltering when he saw the faint fingerprint shaped bruises blooming on her pale skin. He felt sick, dropping his hands immediately, his fingers balling into fists at his sides. He hadn't noticed them before. He ignored the twisting, churning ball of rage burning deep in his stomach, instead slowly lowering himself to a crouch right next to her, gently taking her cold, clammy hand in his and wrapping it around his neck.

"Ok?" He muttered, as he slid his arm around her back. She still didn't look up at him, just nodded sadly. He tightened his grip around her, rising to his feet, tugging her up with him. Her hand scrabbled to grab a handful of his shirt, balling up the neck of it as he pulled her up and he chanced a glance at her, noting the way her eyes were squeezed shut, her brow furrowed, her lips pressed together in tight line.

"You ok?" He asked stupidly, since it was obvious she wasn't.

"Mm hm." She nodded tightly, leaning on him hard as he led her over to the chair he'd pulled out for her earlier. She sat down heavily, heaving out a relieved breath and he tore his eyes away from her, pulling up a chair to sit right in front of her.

He let his eyes drift along her face, trying to decide what to do first, letting his gaze drift a little lower to where she was still clutching at the neckline of her dress. He narrowed his eyes, not wanting to linger on the sight, before jumping up suddenly and heading for her freezer, searching through it for a second and retrieving a bag of frozen peas. Something crunched and skidded under his foot and he looked down to see a tiny pearl button under his shoe, his eyes darting around the floor, making out a handful more buttons scattered around the linoleum. He felt himself go cold, taking a deep breath to try and regain his composure before he sank back down into the seat opposite her.

She was slouched forward in the chair, her shoulders slumped, staring glumly at the table.

"Here." He handed her the bag and she reached for it, pressing it against her cheekbone, wincing in pain as it made contact.

He set about his task, rifling through the box to find the items he needed, ripping open a sachet with his teeth, and wiping tenderly at the line of dried blood that ran down her chin with a cleaning wipe. She flinched a little as he crept higher, swiping as close to the cut on her lip as he dared, before he took the wipe to her cheeks, trying to clean up some of the makeup smeared down her face.

She peered at him curiously while he worked, and he could sense her eyes darting wildly all around his face while he focused on his task.

"What happened, Norma?" He blurted out suddenly, feeling himself flush a little under her intense scrutiny. She froze, then sniffled a little.

"Two men came in. They-"

He cut her off, glancing at the back door with a Sheriff's eye, looking for signs of forced entry.

"Did they break in?"

She shook her head, finally starting to look a little more like herself, now he'd cleaned up her face a little. She shifted the bag against her face, wincing a little, while she shrugged nonchalantly.

"I never lock the front door-"

He scoffed, slamming his hand into the box with more force than was necessary.

"Dammit Norma! You threaten Bob Paris, and then you don't lock your door?" He hissed, and he turned back to see her glaring tearfully at him.

"Yeah Alex." She whispered, her voice low and dangerous. She removed the bag of peas from her face for a second, letting him take her all in. "I really had this coming, huh?"

He gasped at her words, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"I'm sorry." He muttered guiltily.

She just nodded tightly, taking a steadying breath before carrying on.

"They said they were looking for you." His breath caught in his throat, his hand stilling on the cotton ball it'd just landed on.

"Me?"

"I told them you weren't here."

She closed her eyes, shivering a little.

"They asked if I could give you a message." There was a long pause, while he waited for his message.

"What was the message?" He asked finally, not daring to glance at her, while he anointed a cotton ball with a drop of antiseptic with shaking hands.

"I think... I think I'm the message." She gestured broadly to her bruised face as he gasped.

"Fuck." He breathed out, and she tutted at his language.

"Bob Paris..." He ground out through gritted teeth, looking distracted for a second, thinking of all the ways he could tear that man apart.

"I didn't tell them you had it!" She said suddenly, and he glanced up at her. "I swear. I never mentioned the flashdrive at all."

He hated himself. This tiny, fragile woman, sitting in front of him, bruised and bloodied, had done a better job of protecting him than he'd done of protecting her. The nauseous feeling returned, twisting his gut, making him feel like he couldn't breathe.

"You should have told them." He ground out. "They probably already know I have it."

She said nothing, just shrugged like it was no big deal.

"This is gonna sting a little." He warned, as he pressed the cotton ball against her cut. She gasped, wincing, her hand flying up to grab his wrist hard.

"Sorry, sorry..." He whispered, his voice agonised at causing her pain, dabbing lightly at the small wound. "There. Done."

He lowered his hand, but her fingers remained clasped around his wrist, even as he dropped his hand to his knees. Her hand remained resting on top of his wrist, not wanting to let go, and he made no effort to stop her. His gaze drifted up a little, realising she'd finally let go of the collar of her dress, the sides flapping open a few millimetres, not enough for him to see anything, but enough to make him guility avert his gaze.

"What did they..." He started, staring back down at where her hand was still holding his wrist. He couldn't finish the thought, not sure he wanted to know. But he had to. "Did they..." He started again and she cut him off.

"No." She said quietly, shaking her head firmly. Relief flooded through him till she spoke again. "But... he made me think he was going to."

She squeezed his wrist even harder and he remained silent, mulling over the words she was saying to him, trying to take in exactly what that meant.

"I'm going to kill Bob Paris." He announced seriously, not even considering the words before they'd jumped out of his mouth.

She shook her head vehemently.

"I don't think... I don't think they were supposed to do... this." She muttered quietly, letting the bag of peas fall heavily onto the table.

"I fought back." She announced, and Alex felt a small swell of pride. "I grabbed a knife, I slashed his hand... I think."

She looked rather pleased with herself for a split second, before the small smile dropped from her face.

"But that just made him mad. He hit me."

She swallowed hard.

Alex didn't want to hear this. He bit his tongue, using the pain to try and distract himself from the thought of one of Bob Paris's huge, hulking thugs punching this small, fragile woman in the face. It was getting harder and harder to restrain himself from getting up and dealing with him right now. But she was on a roll now, finally seeming a bit more like herself, the words tumbling out as she relived them.

"The other guy kept telling him to stop. Said they weren't supposed to... hurt me." She shuddered suddenly, all of it rushing back to her all at once. She squeezed her eyes shut, her bottom lip trembling, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

"He held my wrists..." She stuttered out, and his hand automatically came to rest on the back of her hand, his mouth dropping open in horror, his thumb brushing very lightly over the edge of her wrist. "He held my wrists behind my back. But he kept telling the other guy to stop. Said that the boss wouldn't like it."

She glanced down at herself, like she'd only just remembered about her dress, not bothering to resecure it in front of Alex.

"He ripped my dress." She announced, the numbness creeping back into her voice, her eyes glazing over like she was reliving a memory from much longer ago than an hour.

"God..." He breathed out finally, and she glanced up, her shining eyes meeting his.

"The other guy said he'd gone too far and grabbed him. He pulled him away, and I fell down. He said they were only supposed to scare me."

There was a long pause, and she wrapped an arm around herself like she was freezing, her bottom lip trembling.

"He said... _"She's scared, isn't she?"_ And he laughed." Her voice broke as she mimicked his mocking tone, and she began rocking back and forth a little, tugging her hand out of his grip and wrapping both arms around herself.

"And then they left." She finished, her tone suddenly cold and hard again.

"Norma." He didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry." He said, feeling like it was nowhere near enough.

She smiled a sad, mirthless smile at him.

"It's ok. I've had worse."

It was the least reassuring statement he'd ever heard, frowning at her words, but she was speaking again before he could respond.

"You tell Bob Paris he owes me a new dress!" She said, sounding just like the normal Norma all of a sudden. "This was genuine vintage!" She explained unhappily, tugging at the edges of the dress. He averted his eyes as she examined the damage, staring at the frayed clusters of thread where the buttons had been ripped off, letting her fingers drift down to where the button-ed up blouse-style of the dress stopped at the waist. The force of the rip had torn through the seam there, tearing the front of the dress past the waist line, leaving it gaping open.

"Vintage dresses don't grow on trees, ya know!" She broke down suddenly and he finally let himself look up from where he'd been studiously examining his knees. Tears were now falling freely down her face, and he knew this had nothing to do with the dress.

He was afraid to touch her, afraid she wouldn't let him comfort her, but he couldn't just watch her cry, and he lunged forwards before he could talk himself out of it, wrapping his arms around her, pleased when she relaxed into his touch.

Her hands clutched desperately at his shoulders as she slumped forwards against his chest, all the fight leaving her body as she sobbed hysterically into his shirt.

"I thought..." She whimpered. "I thought they were..." She hiccuped, and he stroked his hand down her hair, shushing her soothingly. "All over a stupid computer thing!"

"I'm so sorry, Norma. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't protect you." He muttered frantically against the top of her head, and she pulled back suddenly, wiping the back of her hand under her nose.

"Yeah well... if not them it would have just been someone else. That's just my life, isn't it? That's just how my luck goes." She said grimly, shrugging like she was resigned to it.

He had nothing to say to that, feeling impossibly sad for her in that moment, realising he really didn't know much about the enigma sat wiping her nose in front of him.

He looked at her for a long time, before taking a deep breath.

"Give me your phone."

"Why?" She eyed him curiously.

"Just do it, Norma."

She glanced around the room, her eyes landing on her purse lying on the counter.

"It's in my purse." He sprang out of his chair, crossing over to it and bringing it over to her. She rolled her eyes at his reluctance to go into her bag, instead bringing the whole thing over to her. She pulled out her phone and handed it to him.

Alex wasted no time in scrolling through it, and Norma was too confused by this turn of events to even try and stop him.

"Hello?" He was calling someone in her phonebook and Norma struggled to lean forwards to hear who.

"No, no. It's ok. It's Sheriff Romero- Yeah, everything's fine. No, no. Don't worry."

Norma frowned in confusion at Alex's suddenly charming demeanour on the phone.

"Listen, Emma. I was wondering if you could do me a little favour?"

Norma did a double take at the sweet way Alex was apparently taking to Emma Decody, wondering what on earth he was doing.

"Yeah, there's been a little accident here - Norma's fallen down the stairs." He lied smoothly, and Norma reached forwards suddenly, trying to grab the phone out of his hands, protesting this lie. "No, she's fine. She's gonna be fine, but I need you to come and watch the motel for the rest of the day."

Norma clawed at his hand, shaking her head vehemently.

"That's great. Oh... no, no. You can't see her today. She needs to rest. Ok... ok, I'll tell her. Thanks Emma."

He hung up and Norma sat back in her seat, wincing in pain as she crossed her arms in front of herself, glaring daggers at him.

"Why did you do that? I'm fine." She huffed out and he rolled his eyes at her.

"Because Norma. You're not fine. Not right now. And you need to rest." He said firmly, dropping her phone back into her bag and reaching for his own again.

She started to speak again and he cut her off by holding up a single finger as he dialled a number. Her mouth fell open in shock at being hushed in such a way and she started quietly chuntering to herself as he held up the phone to his ear.

"Lahey? It's Romero. Listen, I need a favour. I need you to come to Bates Motel. Yeah, out on the highway." She began to protest.

"Alex, I'm fine!" She tried to say, before he held up a hand again to shush her and she glowered at him.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just want this house patrolled for the next few hours. Off the books, ok?"

"This is ridiculous!" She whispered at him and he shot her a dark look that told her to be quiet.

"No, no. Nothing to worry about. There's a woman named Norma Bates up in the house, and there'll be a young woman named Emma Decody in the motel office. I want them both protected. No-one is to enter without you calling me and letting me know, ok?"

Norma sat back in her seat at the mention of Emma. If Emma was going to be in the office, she would relent to having their own "off the books" security detail. Emma's safety came first.

He hung up and she huffed out an unhappy sigh, staring at him helplessly. He rose suddenly, moving to her side, and bending his knees to drop down a little.

"Come on." He muttered, as he slid his hand around her back again, pulling her hand over his shoulder and tugging her to her feet.

"Where are we going?" She winced a little, as he held her more tightly against him, starting to slowly pick their way out of the kitchen.

"To bed." He said simply, adjusting his hand on her waist, and she froze for a second.

"I mean... you are. I'm taking you to bed." He blustered, his cheeks burning. "I'm putting you to bed." He corrected himself, and she smiled, not a beaming grin, but still a small happy smile at his nervous floundering. She enjoyed his embarrassment as he tripped over his words.

"Ok." She said quietly. He had expected a protest of some sort, but she seemed to be all protested-out, mildly agreeing to rest.

She whimpered a little as they slowly walked, and he glanced down, noticing she was limping slightly.

"Where else are you hurt?" He blurted out suddenly, frowning at her uncertain, faltering steps.

"My ankle." She muttered through gritted teeth. "I just twisted it a little when I fell. It's nothing."

He stopped, turning to look at her, their faces mere inches apart. Her face dropped a little.

"And my ribs." She admitted, and he sighed heavily, as they started moving again, managing to make it to the bottom of the stairs after what felt like an age. They both looked up at the staircase, which seemed impossibly steep and long all of a sudden, and he glanced at her, unsure of himself for a moment.

"This would be easier if I could carry you." He offered, tensing for her refusal and probable tirade he was about to receive, so he was surprised when she just nodded tightly. He swung her around a little, her arm still wrapped around his neck, his hand still firmly wrapped around her waist, and he bent down, hooking his hand under her knees and scooping her up into his arms.

He settled her slight weight in his arms, feeling her other hand come up to wrap around him, clasping with her other hand at the nape of his neck.

He didn't dare glance at her, feeling her eyes on his face, taking off up the stairs before he could focus too much on the warmth of her body through her clothes, or the way she tucked her head against his shoulder.

By the time he reached her bedroom, he couldn't wait to put her down, needing the soft skin of the underside of her knee, and the smell of her lavender shampoo and the feel of her hands against the hair at the back of his neck to stop and be as far away from him as possible. He set her gently on her feet, feeling her hands reluctantly slide away from him as he put her down.

"How badly do your ribs hurt?" He asked gently, and he watched as she prepared to lie, her face hardening before she sagged.

"Quite a bit." She admitted, taking a deep breath in and wincing a little. "I think I hit the counter. It's all a blur." She shrugged a little.

"Do you... do you want me to take a look?" He asked, directing his gaze nervously to the ground. There was a pause, and he glanced up to see her looking conflicted.

"Oh... erm..."

He didn't want to. He didn't want to have to see any more of her injuries, or see any more of her body and have to try and calm the urge to kiss every bruise on her body, but realistically, he knew he should check them out. She could be downplaying it - She could have a broken rib for all he knew.

"Ok." She said quietly, puffing out a long breath and turning away from him slightly, beginning to awkwardly shuffle her shoulders out of the dress, tugging the sleeves down her arms and wriggling out of it. He gallantly turned away slightly, averting his eyes as she pulled the dress down to the waist, and then wrapping her arm around herself.

"Ok." She said quietly, signalling she was ready for him to turn back, and he did, ignoring the smooth, perfect skin of her back, and the delicate navy lace standing out against her flesh, his eyes immediately drawn to the huge blackening bruise down her side. She took in a shaky breath, hearing him gasp, not wanting to look.

"Is it bad?" She whispered.

"No." He lied automatically, springing forwards a little, pleased when she didn't flinch. He gently pressed his finger tips to the edge of the bruise, and she flinched a little.

"Sorry."

"Your hands are cold." She said quietly, sniffling nervously as he touched her, his fingers gently prodding at her ribs. She kept her face turned away, and he was scared that she was mortified, feeling yet another humiliation at the hands of a man.

"Sorry." He muttered again. "Take a deep breath." He splayed his whole hand flat against her skin, concentrating as she took a breath, managing to keep his focus as her chest heaved.

"Can you..." He cleared his throat, feeling awkward. "Can you lift your arms above your head?"

Her uninjured side lifted straight up, and there was a pause, where she struggled to lift her other arm, finally pulling it away from where she had been covering her chest, whimpering a little as she weakly managed to raise it over her head. She was uncovered now, and he fought to keep his eyes on the mottled purpley-black of the bruise on her side, not daring to let his eyes drift around to her chest.

"Good." He muttered. They weren't broken. "Take another deep breath." She did so, and his eyes flicked to the swell of her breasts before he could stop himself, watching for a second as they rose and fell with her breath, encased in delicate, almost sheer navy lace. Of course, Norma chose that moment to finally turn her head, catching him looking and he averted his gaze, his face flushing red at being caught.

"Ok. Well, they're not broken. And I'm 90% sure you have no internal bleeding." He said suddenly, taking a step away from her and turning his body away.

"90%? Ok, thanks doctor." He glanced up to see her smiling at him, a faint blush colouring her cheeks in a way that made him wonder if she hadn't been pleased that she'd caught him looking.

"Can you hand me that?" She said suddenly, jerking her head behind him to where her powder blue robe was hanging on the back of the door. He grabbed it and went to hand it to her, before pulling back, shaking the item in his hands and holding it out for her gallantly.

"Thanks." She muttered quietly as he helped her into her robe, sliding the pale satin over her skin, taking a breath of relief now she was finally covered again. She shrugged her ruined dress the rest of the way off under her robe, kicking it over to the other side of the room angrily as it reached her feet, before turning back to him, automatically holding her arm out to him. He obliged, wrapped his arms around her, more gently now he knew how badly she was hurt, letting her lean heavily against him as he led her over to the bed. It felt strangely intimate, settling her in the bed, leaning over her to tuck the covers around her like she was a child.

"I'll be back to check on you later."

He watched as she opened her mouth as if she was going to protest, before closing it and simply nodding, a shadow of concern crossed her face.

"What are you going to do?" She bit her lip worriedly.

He just shook his head and said nothing for a moment.

"I trust you." She piped up suddenly and his eyes met hers, as her hand came up to grasp his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He nodded back at her and made to move away, frowning as her grip tightened, stopping him. She clutched at his arm, dragging him towards her, and he leaned forwards, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Thank you." She breathed out, and she was close enough that he could feel her breath against his face when she spoke.

She craned her head up and for a second, he thought she was going to kiss him. His mouth dropped open in shock, before she pressed a soft kiss against his cheek, lingering for longer than was necessary.

He pulled back, gazing at her questioningly, clearing his throat nervously when she just smiled at him.

"Ok. Erm... bye." He murmured, turning away and heading towards the door.

"Why me?" She piped up suddenly, and he stopped in the doorway, his hand resting on the doorframe.

"What?"

"Why did they come after me?" She queried quietly, and he glanced over his shoulder. She was cocking her head at him like a confused puppy. "You said they already knew you had it - The flashdrive thingy? Why would they come after me?"

He didn't dare look at her as he considered her words, turning away again and staring at the ground for what felt like much too long. He shook his head.

"I don't know, Norma."

There was the sound of a little sigh from behind him, and he kept his eyes glued on the floor as he shook himself, taking another step before she could ask any more difficult questions.

"Yes you do." He heard her say quietly, and he pretended not to hear her as he stalked out of her house, steeling himself for a visit to Bob Paris.

* * *

"I need to see Bob Paris." He announced to the pretty blonde behind the desk. Her mouth dropped open and he reached for the phone.

"No need. He knows I'm coming." He said simply, and the girl's hand faltered as Alex confidently swept towards Bob's office door.

"Um... Mr Paris asked not to be disturbed. He's in a meeting right now." She said, her voice meek and unsure. Being a criminal's assistant wasn't the right career for the terrified girl who half stood as Alex strode past her, wrenching the door open before she could protest any further.

Alex didn't say a word, as the door swung open to reveal Bob sitting at his desk, opposite two huge, bulky men, both of whom flicked their disinterested gaze to Alex as he walked in.

The receptionist appeared behind Alex's shoulder, raising herself up on tip toes to worriedly make eye contact with Bob.

"I'm real sorry, Mr Paris!" She squeaked. "I tried to stop him!"

"Go home." Alex ground out in annoyance, his gaze fixed on the two men sitting impassively in front of the desk.

If Bob was at all surprised to see Alex, he didn't let on, smiling over his shoulder at the blonde.

"Take the rest of the day off, Kacy."

"Ok..?" She chirped hesitantly, like she wasn't sure he was serious, until he jerked his head to the door, and she jumped, grabbing her purse and disappearing.

"Alex! What an unexpected delight!" Bob said smoothly, smiling a sharp white grin at him.

Alex dragged his eyes from the two men to Bob, glaring at him, before walking over and slamming the flashdrive on the desk in front of him. Bob's eyes widened, a wide beaming grin breaking out on his face. The grin dropped suddenly and he placed his hand over his heart like he was stricken by this turn of events.

"Alex! Where's the fight?" He held his hands up, frowning like he was disappointed. "Where are the threats and the witty little comebacks and the promises that I'll _never get away with this?"_ He pouted at him. "That's our thing?" Bob reached for the flashdrive, turning his attention to it and flipping it over in his hands a few times. "I mean... I've got what I wanted but... this is no fun. I wanted-"

He was cut off as Alex suddenly reached behind him, his fingers closing around the cold metal of the gun tucked into his waistband, pulling it out and firing a shot before Bob could say another word. The bullet sailed past his head, missing him by mere inches, hitting the wall behind him, splintering the dark panelled wood there.

The two men stood automatically, both pushing their chairs back to scrabbled back away from Alex, who was stood panting, still holding his gun out. Bob looked over his shoulder, his mouth hanging open, his hands held up defensively.

"Wow, Alex. You're either a really good shot or a really bad one."

Alex raised a single eyebrow at Bob. They both knew he'd be dead if Alex had actually wanted to hit him.

"Are these the men you sent to Norma Bates's house?" He ground out through gritted teeth, jerking his head to the two terrified looking men standing just a few feet away. They were much larger than Alex, both taller, and more muscular, but he had a gun, and they didn't, and Alex could feel the fear radiating off them in waves. Bob's panicked face smoothed out a little, a small smile playing on his lips, like he knew some big secret that Alex didn't, as he nodded slowly.

Alex turned, pointing the gun at the man closest to him, watching with satisfaction as he trembled, before turning the gun on the larger of the two. He gazed back defiantly, like he wasn't scared of Alex. In a fist fight, the much larger, tougher-looking man, with his steely eyes and the hint of a neck tattoo peeking above the collar of his plaid shirt would have clearly had the advantage, but Alex could still feel the adrenaline flowing through his veins, his grip on his weapon tightening.

"Who hit her?" Alex said slowly, and both men shuffled slightly, as if almost embarrassed by the question. There was a small sound from behind him.

"Hit who? Alex, nobody hit anyone." Bob said soothingly, and Alex smiled mirthlessly at the two men, who exchanged a guilty look with each other. "They just scared her a little, ok? You're overreacting." He said quickly, his words tumbling out, his charm offensive desperately trying to calm the situation.

Alex snorted and ignored him.

"Who. Hit. Her?" He choked out, pulling back the hammer on the gun, watching as both men shuffled nervously on the spot. The larger man just stared back at him, like he was unaffected, though his quickened breathing gave him away, while the younger, smaller man bit his lip, obviously terrified at the prospect of dying in Bob Paris's office. He made eye contact with Alex, then pointedly flicked his eyes down to the a small white bandage on the other man's hand.

He slowly turned the gun to focus on him, narrowing his eyes at the small sliver of white on the man's hand.

"She cut you." He observed, remembering the blood on the knife. It wasn't a question, so the man said nothing, just puffed up his chest a little, raising his head defiantly.

"Ok Alex. Well, fair's fair." Bob piped up from behind him, his voice sounding tight and panicked. "Maybe the boys went too far, but... she cut Hank so... even? Ok?"

"Who ripped her dress?" Alex murmured dangerously quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on Hank.

Bob gasped.

" _Ripped...?"_ He breathed out. He sounded genuinely shocked to hear what his men had done. "I didn't tell you to-"

"Shut up, Bob."

There was a tense silence, where the smaller man's panicked, shallow breathing was the loudest sound in the room for a moment, before Alex spoke again.

"Who ripped the dress?" He repeated. He knew who. But he wanted him to say it.

Hank glared back at Alex, lifting his hand slowly to show him the bandage and the red stain seeping through the white wrapping.

"I did." He said, a challenge hanging in his voice. "Bitch had it coming-"

He didn't even finish his sentence, before the bullet ripped through his throat. He spluttered and choked for a split second, his mouth dropping open as blood splattered out, before Alex fired again, this time hitting him square between the eyes. He went silent straight away, dropping to a heap on the floor. There was silence for a moment, and the other man made a pathetic noise in the back of his throat, glancing from the corpse on the ground back up to Alex.

"Oh man... Oh please don't kill me-" He held up his hands in surrender, a sheen of sweat breaking out across his brow, and Alex's eyes glanced to the silver wedding band on his hand. He took a step towards him, and the man whimpered, pressing his eyes shut in fear.

"I got a wife! I got a kid-"

Alex grabbed his shirt, yanking him forwards and pressing the still-heated barrel of the gun against his throat.

"Get a different job." He muttered, and the man nodded, his eyes flying open as Alex shoved him back. He didn't pause, just stumbled backwards, letting his eyes fall to his dead co-worker one last time before he fled.

"Jesus Alex. I never thought you'd have a flair for the dramatic but-"

He was cut off as Alex suddenly swung around, catching Bob in the face with the butt of the gun, knocking his head to the side.

He staggered back from the force of it, breathing out a pained, incredulous laugh as he turned back to him.

"Wow. You must really like her, huh?" He choked out, spitting out a mouthful of blood onto his expensive persian rug. Alex said nothing, just tucked his gun back into his pants and turned to leave, facing away from Bob as he spoke.

"I just don't like people who hurt women, Bob. If you have a problem with me, come to me."

He took a step, before stopping.

"Don't touch Norma Bates again." He warned over his shoulder and Bob Paris held his hands up, nodding seriously.

"Yeah, yeah. I get that now." He agreed mildly, letting his eyes flick from the bleeding body on the floor to Alex.

He made to leave again, pausing in the doorway, casting his gaze down. He had this strange feeling like Bob Paris "had something on him" now, and he hated it.

"She's nothing to me Bob. I don't know what information your men were acting on, but... there's nothing going on with me and Norma Bates." He said, almost believing it. He sensed, rather than heard Bob breath out a soft laugh from behind him.

"I don't know why you went after her...?" He shrugged, like he had no idea why Bob would do such a thing, hearing how lame the lie sounded on his lips before confidently striding out of his office, pretending not to hear Bob's reply:

"Yes you do."

* * *

 **Thank you to Kacy for this request! I named a character after you! :) I loved this idea and somehow wrote 8000 smut-less words on it! I got all inspired.**

 **If you've requested a story from me, I will be trying my very best to write as many as I can throughout December! (Sleep is for the weak!) Keep an eye out to see if your request appears, and add me on twitter if you haven't already - I'm geneharl0w on there (that's a zero, not an O). I take requests and post little sneak peeks and answer obscure, personal sexual questions on my curiouscat. It's all good fun. ;)**

 **Merry Fic-mas, Kacy! Hope you liked it! xxx**


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